


Unless You Got Buns, Hun

by BLisHEAVEN (orphan_account)



Category: Sora The Troll ( YouTube)
Genre: M/M, My last braincell told me to write this idk, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:20:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BLisHEAVEN
Summary: The president of the United States could care less about boring meetings and photo ops. Once he gets a taste of 100% fine Japanese Wagyu man, he is hooked.Or,A rising YouTuber sees his opportunity to troll at the highest level, but has to deal with the ugly parts of fame.Disclaimer: I give anyone full permission to share my work ( for free, for ever)





	1. Chapter 1

In 2020 the Olympics flood Japan with a record number of foreigners . The metropolitan streets buzz with a mix of excitement and fear. The culture of Japan seems to be a hot commodity, and a certain YouTuber decides to capitolize. 

Meet Sora The Troll. After buying a rad new guitar and GoPro, he hits the streets. During the olympics, he promised his adoring fans to troll at least 20 different foreigners. 

The plan was simple. Dawn a mask. Charm them with his music. Then trick them into saying something dirty. Simple, right?

It works for a few rounds. He teaches them things like "I have an erection", "let me drink your bathwater", and "Can I suck your toes, please". 

You know. Basic suvival phrases.

He always left them with a sampling of his free Album, Story of a Nerd. Probably, because it reminded him of his old dream to be a rock star. 

After about 5 groups he was exhausted and decided to go home. But, that's when he saw it. The streets of Akihabara parted like the Red Sea. Phones whipped out, and hands pointed frantically.

In the center of guards on foot, Donald Trump rolled on a mobility scooter. Perched like a king on a throne he took in the masses. His golden safety helmet was adorned with a McDonald's M. He was beauty, he was grace, he was what Sora knew he needed to hit 1 million subscribers.

Some part of him was afraid of being exposed at work, but another part of him had a hope. He wanted to rise to fame, and this was his chance.

He plucked out his guitar and sang as loudly as he could. "Help me out here~ I don't have a life~!"

Trump heard his hearts plea and looked Sora in the eyes. Despite how unlikely it would seem, Trump swerved left to appraise him.

Sora bravely bounded on top of an outdoor table to belt out "Look at my face! Look at my Penis! Im a Neeerd~"

That was all it took. Trump abandoned the scooter to approach Sora. He walked up to the table and laughed his orange ass off. "Oh my God, who is this funny little Japanese man? The Japanese are so talented. I mean there's Toyota and this fucking guy, am I right?" None of his bodyguards laugh.

Sora is so intimidated that he abruptly stops playing. 

"Hello, young man. Do you speak E n g l i s h? My name is Donald. What's your name?"

"Ugh. Ahem. My name is Sora. Nice to meet you, sir."

"Oh! Your accent is so good! I loved your little song. Y'know what? You're the kind of musician that would kill at an event of mine. Would you consider a gig for me?" 

Sora nods, still standing on the table as he bows to accept Tump's buisness card. 

"Thank you, Sir." Sora barely gets out. His heart is pounding in his chest. He fears that even breathing might fuck this up for him. 

"Just set it up with the secritary. Say Donald sent ya. She'll know what to do." He smiled and left to continue his parade around town. 

A few mintues pass before Sora can trust his legs enough to get down. "What the Hell, what the hell, what the hell?" He panics. He rips the mask off and bolts for the train home. "Nobody is going to fucking believe this!" 

Sora knew that this moment marked something significant in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later Sora is set to perform at Trump Towers Japan. A foreign black limo with tinted windows pulls up at his parent's house. He gets in only to see that Trump is casually lounging in the back.

"Oh." Is all Sora can get out. Needless to say he's about to shit his pants. 

"Sarah the Troll! Welcome, welcome. Don't be shy. Come sit next to me and we'll have some Japanese liquor." 

"Ah, my name is actually Sora, sir." He meekly corrects. He can't even look Trump in the eyes with his mask on. 

"S O R A, huh? That's nice. Have some Sake with me, I got some that will knock your socks off. Real quality stuff." He reaches for some glasses and gives it to Sora.

Their hands gently brush, and Sora shudders at the contact. "Sorry" he reflexively says. Clutching the glass for dear life.

"Sorry?" 

"Ah, it's nothing." Sora dismisses. 

"So do you know any American artists, Sora?"

"Yes, I like... Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj."

"Oh really?" Trump starts cackling.

"Yes, sir."

"You can't be serious! Of all the singers you could've chose. Why them?" Trump's eyes water. "And please call me Donald, not Sir. " 

"Well, Donald. Have you ever heard 'Baby' by Justin Bieber? It's just so awesome I can't get enough." Sora hopes his dry humor style keeps Donald laughing.

"And I love 'Anaconda' from Nicki Minaj. Have you seen her boobs? They're freaking enourmous dude."

"That's why you like her? That's so hilarious" Trump barely gets out between laughs. It takes a while for him to collect him self.

"I've never met a Japanese person quite like you." He says before extending his hand for a handshake. Sora recipricates. However, afterwards Trump pulls Sora's hand up to kiss it as one would for a lady.

"S-sir??" Sora sputters.

"It's Donald... And relax, it's not like I bit ya. You should feel honored" Trump confidently asserts.

Sora sunk deeply into his seat and thinks. 'Why the hell would he do that? That's such an uncomfortable thing to do...even if it does make my heart flutter.'

Sora bit his tongue and tried to change topics.

"So, did you know know that in Japan genitals are censored? It's like the country denies their existance."

"Really? I guess it's kind of like that in the U.S. too."

"No, no, no. In Japan, you can go to jail if a picture of your dick or vagina exists. It's actually pretty crazy."

Trump stares at Sora with startling consternation at this. "What? That's absolutely ridiculous!"

"Yeah, man. That's why in porn, everything is blurred out. I'm not even sure how the porn industry survives here."

Trump scooted close to Sora on the leather seat until they were only inches apart. 

"So if we make a sex tape, I won't be able to show it to anybody?" Trump spoke right into Sora's ear.

At this point Sora decided to abandon ship. Things were getting too wierd. "You know what, Donald? I realized I left my music sheets at home. We should turn back and get them."

"What? Don't like a little teasing, Sora? I'll be honest with you. At first I didn't think you were my type. But, I have a theory. If you don't like what you hear, you can leave. Deal?"

"Sure, whatever. Deal."

"Put your palm onto mine and tell me what you see."

Sora reluctantly obeys. "Ugh, your hands are warm and soft, I guess."

"That may be true, but guess what else? Our hands are the exact same size, Sora. What are the odds a man over 6 ft tall would have the same hand size as you? Isn't it fate that we should be together?"

Sora gasps and blushes instantly. "D-donald. We just met! It's too soon to talk about things like fate! We haven' t even kissed yet!"

Trump smugly smiled. "Kiss? You wanna kiss me? Go right ahead sweetheart." He closed his eyes and patiently waited.

Sora knew he had a choice. He could go back home and hide away from any risks that could come his way. Or, he could kiss Trump and live a passionate and free life. Sora made a choice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More juicy lore to make u cringie cringe

Sora takes off his mask. And he stares at the president.

"Donald, just for the record I'm not gay--" Sora gets cut off by Trump planting a big spitty kiss on his neck.

Its loud and sensual. Slow and sloppy.

"どうしてー?! I said NO HOMO! Gross, dude!"

Sora freaks out and covers his neck with his palms. But, Trump pins both his hands to the seat, spilling his drink and continuing to lick his exposed pulse.

Sora doesn't recognise the high pitched ah~ Ah~~ aaHs~, coming out of his own mouth. 

With Trump's whole torso caging him in Sora could only do one thing. He kicked Trump in his presidential ballsack.

He hunches over and lets out a pained yowl.

"FUCK! Do you play fucking soccer? Shit that hurt!"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry." Sora gushed. Even though he thought he did the right thing, he didn't want to be arrested by the secret service. He appologised until Trump could sit normally.

"Sora, stop saying your'e sorry. I think I went too far just now." He paused to think. "I think I had a fantasy in my head that you would just fall in love with me right away."

_But why though? _Sora thought. _That is just too wierd_.

"I got carried away. I'm sincerely sorry, Sora."

Trump slowly picked up the mask. "Do you think you can forgive me?" He held it out for Sora to put back on.

"Hmmmmmm. Mr. Trump, I don't really understand, but whatever I forgive you." 

Trump looked hopeful at that.

They arrive at Trump Tower Japan and enter the building from different doors. But before they part ways Sora teaches him a phrase.

"Bokki shitekita" Trump listens respectfully. "It means '_I'm dissapointed_' on Google you see?" Trump gets him to repeat it at least 3 times before going seperate ways. "Say it to the whole audience, please."

"I will Sora. Even if we never see each other again, I'll remember those words."

"Thank you Trum-- I mean Donald."


End file.
